


Anticipation

by TonalModulator



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Daedric Triad, Enemies to begrudging friends, Gen, clockwork city
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24904765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonalModulator/pseuds/TonalModulator
Summary: Lior, a Demiprince of Azura, ends up on the same side as the usurper-godling Sotha Sil during the threat of the Daedric Triad.
Relationships: Sotha Sil & Demiprince Lior, Sotha Sil & Demiprince OC
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. An unfortunate alliance

**Author's Note:**

> This was kind of a silly thing that turned into more of a real thing. The usual.

Lior rounded the corner after completing her dealings with the Bursar of Tributes and barely suppressed a sigh when she saw the so-called “Clockwork God” standing on the path between her and the wayshrine. She had hoped to make this an in-and-out trip and slide under Sotha Sil’s detection, but apparently he was more vigilant now that he had his whole animus intact. She tried to keep walking, pretending she did not see him and hoping that his attention was elsewhere. Unfortunately, he easily fell into step beside her when she passed him by.

“You’ve returned so soon,” said the godling in that annoyingly even voice of his, and curiously, in Daedric Ehlnofex. “I had not expected to see you again until our paths crossed on Artaeum. You Daedra and your chaotic ways so often manage to escape my calculations.”

“I just wanted to drop off the armor I’d gathered for the crows,” she said, stopping when she reached the wayshrine. “I was on my way out.”

“I see,” he said. “Normally, I would not have allowed you re-entry, as I strongly prefer to keep chaos out of my city. But, since we are allies in the current situation, I decided to make an allowance. Besides, it would be good for us to talk. Walk with me, would you?”

Lior put her hands on her hips. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Then you are welcome to leave.”

She held her position for a few more seconds, weighing the options, and then dropped her hands. “After you.”

He began walking toward the Clockwork Basilica. “You may speak freely, by the way,” he said. “Few here would deign to learn Daedric Ehlnofex, and those who do speak it would never admit to it.”

“Okay, then.” Lior struggled to keep up with his long stride until she imbued her feet with a small amount of magic to propel herself a little bit farther with each step. “Why are you so infuriatingly tall?”

Sotha Sil laughed. “I could ask you why you are so short, when your true form is at least as tall as I am. Or, I could ask why you have split your animus across two bodies.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Isn’t it?”

She huffed, but otherwise offered no reply. The sun—or, what passed for a sun here—was setting as they walked toward the Basilica, shining in their faces.

“What a mockery,” she muttered. “Don’t you think that’s an insult to the Lady of Twilight?”

Sotha Sil paused, first looking toward the sun, and then tilting his head as he looked at Lior, his expression almost amused.

“Are you asking whether I think that simulating a daylight cycle for my citizens is an insult to Azura?”

“Well…yeah.”

“Then, no, I do not think that. I do not think at all about what Azura may like or dislike about my city.” He began walking again, turning to ascend the ramp to the Basilica. “Does that bother you?”

“Of course it bothers me,” Lior said. “Azura is my Prince-Mother. Twilight is her sacred time, and you’ve taken it away and replaced it with”—she gestured at the glass sky—“ _ this _ .”

“But my people would not have worshiped Azura, even if I had somehow used a natural cycle,” he said. “Plenty of cultures let the twilight go by without sparing Azura so much as a passing thought. Do you fault them as well, or is this personal?”

“Maybe it is personal,” Lior said. “I mean, you did break your oath to play with powers beyond your mortal ken, insult my mother, and then steal away her favored people from their true gods.”

“‘Steal?’” Sotha Sil laughed once more. “Well, I appreciate your candid phrasing, Demiprince.”

They reached the top of the ramp and entered the Basilica. Sotha Sil made a gesture of blessing to the Apostles at the door, and their faces lit up—literally—for a moment.

_ Simple magic tricks to keep his people on their knees, _ Lior thought.  _ Pathetic. _

The godling gave a few more blessings and the occasional word of greeting to Apostles that they passed on the way to his study. The air was less tense than it had been when the shadow impostor was here; the people seemed happy to have their “true” god back. They were more relaxed than she remembered, and surprisingly casual in their address toward their god, though they did show some deference.

“I see you’ve changed your armor,” Sotha Sil said as they ascended to his study. “I must admit, I was surprised to see you dressed like a Clockwork Apostle when we met in the Cogitum Centralis.”

“Minmari told me I should at least try to fit in.”

“Minmari is wise, and you were wise to follow their advice. Suspicions about your nature are near zero, with the only exception being Luciana, who knows not to say anything to the public. Your training in how to present yourself as a mortal has paid off, it seems.”

Lior was surprised and almost suspicious to hear praise—for herself or her partner—from a pretender who was supposed to hate her as much as she hated him. But before she could say anything, he continued.

“You kept the epaulets, however.”

She froze in the doorway for a brief moment before stepping the rest of the way inside and letting the door close behind her. It was true that she had kept the Apostle-style epaulets when she changed her armor. They suited her new outfit just fine, and so she decided that there was no reason to get rid of them. In fact—she hated to so much as  _ think _ it, but—she even liked the way they looked.

She folded her arms and looked away, and mumbled something even she could barely hear.

“Pardon?”

She sighed, and then took a breath. “I like. Your style.” She enunciated it loudly this time, scowling as she spoke. “That doesn’t mean I like anything else about you.”

Sotha Sil looked to be suppressing a laugh. “I won’t tell anyone.” He motioned her further into the study. “Tea?”

He poured two cups and offered one to her. She took it and sniffed, letting her Daedric sense examine the liquid. It was an old Chimeri blend traditionally reserved for ceremonies honoring the Good Daedra. That was shocking, coming from someone who so brazenly refused anything to do with his old gods, or Daedra in general. Some not-so-subtle attempt at a peace offering? She narrowed her eyes and took a sip. It was perfectly steeped, as though he had planned the timing of their walk down to the second.

“You knew I would agree to come with you?”

“I suspected, with some degree of uncertainty,” he said. “Foresight is not limited to Azura’s domain.”

Lior rolled her eyes and sat down at a table.

“I  _ know _ that,” she said, “but yours is a profane illusion, yet another mockery of your true god.”

“‘Illusion…’” Sotha Sil repeated thoughtfully, joining her at the table. “That is not the word I would use, ideological differences aside. My foresight is based on statistics, supported by a vast understanding of the world as it is and has been—which draws on sources you may consider profane, of course. But to call it an illusion would be inaccurate, given that the results are true and sound.”

Lior had a number of responses, but she held her tongue. It was unlikely that he had invited her here to argue about theological semantics.

“What did you want to talk about, godling?”

He folded his hands on the table. “I was wondering if we could be friends. A foolish wish, perhaps, but worth discussion nonetheless.”

She nearly choked on her tea. “ _ Friends? _ I hate you. I hate everything about you.”

Sotha Sil smiled softly, looking entirely unscathed by her remarks. “I know. But we are allies in the current predicament. We should at least be able to work together on civil terms. Besides, we have other allies to think about, who may find it uncomfortable to share a space with us if we pass the time glowering and bickering.”

Lior stood up. “No. Not going to happen. Not after everything you’ve done. You’re a liar, a traitor, a pretender, a thief, an apostate to the highest degree. I’ll be civil for our allies—as long as  _ you’re _ civil—but there’s no way I could ever be friends with you.” She downed the rest of her tea, scalding her throat in the process, and left.  



	2. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lior learns that Sotha Sil is a person.

“Once again, you return. If I did not know you better, I might think you secretly like it here.” The usurper god sat on a synthetic mockery of a rock in the Reactor District, apparently waiting for Lior to exit Associate Zanon’s workshop.

“Don’t flatter yourself, gear-boy,” Lior said, though she was finding it hard to address him with vitriol today. She began slowly walking back toward the Fortress, giving him time to follow. “I’d found a bunch of factotum parts scattered around. They had your city’s stink on them. I decided to bring them back.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“Yeah, well, they were weighing my bag down.”

“And so you decided to help Zanon with his project. Have you glimpsed into the future on that one? The outcome will be…unexpected.”

Lior didn’t answer. She had not looked into the future of Zanon’s project yet. Though she wouldn’t dare admit it to the godling, her own prophetic powers required overt activation. She did not have constant access to visions of the future like her Prince-Mother, or, she assumed, like Sotha Sil.

“Zanon’s project led you to the Mnemonic Planisphere, then,” he continued. “I thank you for counseling Amili. She will make a good Astronomer. I was surprised by your decision to encourage her to remain loyal to me and to her duties as a Clockwork Apostle, but I suppose it may be time to recalibrate my expectations around you. But tell me: what did you think of the Planisphere?”

Lior glanced up at him for the briefest moment, and then back down at the ground in front of her. In truth, she had a great many thoughts about the things she had seen in the Mnemonic Planisphere—so many that she was not done sorting through them.

For one thing, the idea of storing one’s own memories for external access was both incredibly clever and surprisingly brave. She hated the fact that she not only understood, but agreed with his devotion to archiving knowledge. The more time she spent in this profane city, the more she began to understand how Sotha Sil was truly meant to be a replacement for Azura, and recognize the ways that he was similar to the Prince she loved and respected. It made her sick just to think about it.

And then, of course, there were the memories themselves, those snippets of life that had reminded her that the Clockwork God was a person with a history, and not just a shimmery concept to hate.

“It was fine,” she said shortly. She was not ready to talk about it yet—or preferably ever.

Sotha Sil seemed to sense her consternation and, for some reason, seemed to care. “Is something troubling you, Lior?”

“I’m fine.”

She could not tell if that was enough to shut the godling down, but they walked in silence for a few more seconds. Lior stomped on a skeevaton that crossed their path.

“Yet another service to the Clockwork City,” Sotha Sil said. “If you’re not careful, you may just earn yourself a reputation for being a hero to the city’s residents.”

“Shut up,” she mumbled. Was he trying to insult her? Could he not tell that she needed space?

“I’m sorry. I did not mean—”

She stopped walking and spun to face him. “Just. Shut.  _ Up! _ I know I’m a Daedra and  _ obviously _ a threat to your oh-so-perfect city, but if I’m such a ‘hero,’ can’t you trust me to be alone with my thoughts for  _ five minutes? _ ”

He looked taken aback, as if none of his residents had ever snapped at him before. There was also some worry, bordering on compassion, in his eyes—he must have finally realized that he had touched a nerve—but she did not give him the time to respond before she teleported away.

* * *

She was not even sure what location she had targeted until she landed and saw the memorials that made up the Elegiac Replication.

_ Of course, _ she thought with some exasperation.  _ More memories. _

After taking a moment to collect herself while sitting on one of the rock walls, she stood up and went to the nearest memorial. It depicted Nerevar, Thrice-Blessed Champion of Moon and Star, whose dear friends and most trusted councilors had bitterly betrayed their solemn oath that they had made to him before Azura. She had scoffed the first time she saw it, but now, after seeing Sotha Sil’s memories of Nerevar in the Planisphere, she was starting to think he actually cared about his former friend, and the consequences of his actions.

The plaque spoke of regret, and Sotha Sil himself had vaguely mentioned regret the last time they spoke here. She was almost inclined to believe it now. But if he regretted his actions so much, why did he cling to his power? Why would he not return his people to their proper gods?

She slowly walked across the Replication to the Old Mournhold memorial. Though Mournhold in the days of the Chimer was more Boethiah’s city than Azura’s, Azura had still raged when it fell to the Tribunal, and expressed heartache when it was razed by Dagon. They were still her people, misguided as they were. Thinking more about it, Lior supposed Azura could have intervened, but maybe she was still sore over the Tribunal’s betrayal, or maybe it was an act of compassion, giving the “ALMSIVI” a chance to prove themselves to their people.

But, then, that was far from the only time Azura had let her people be slaughtered by Mehrunes Dagon—or anyone, for that matter—without so much as lifting a Daedric digit. Lior moved on to the memorial for Sotha Nall and Ald Sotha. She remembered that night well: sitting in Moonshadow with Azura, looking over her scrying pools at a town of loyal Chimer being obliterated. She remembered the sad look on her Prince’s face as Dagon’s fists came down, crushing child and adult alike, and the tear Azura had shed when the Prince of Destruction toppled her shrine, killing the few who had made it inside to seek refuge.

Why had Azura not stood up to Mehrunes Dagon? Why did she let him wipe out a town full of people who loved her and worshiped her just as she demanded? Lior had never even thought to question it before today. She always trusted her Prince-Mother, and never paid much heed to mortals in the past. “What was one town of fleeting beings, anyway?” she had thought.

Only one of Ald Sotha’s citizen’s survived. It was no wonder he lost faith. It was no wonder he had led his people away from Daedra worship at the first opportunity. Who wouldn’t?

As if summoned by her thoughts, the last remaining member of House Sotha materialized beside her.

“Has it been five minutes?” Lior asked dryly.

“Do you need more time?”

She hesitated, and then sat down cross-legged on the wall. “No,” she said softly.

“May I join you?”

She nodded silently, and he sat down on the wall beside her.

Her winged twilight aspect picked up a rock and tossed it into her Breton aspect’s hands. The two bodies tossed the rock back and forth rapidly while she mulled her thoughts over.

“Is that difficult?” Sotha Sil asked after a moment.

She caught the rock in her Breton hands and looked at him questioningly. “What?”

“Tossing an object between two bodies. Do you have to keep track of both visual scenes?”

She thought about it and shrugged. “I guess I do. It’s just a couple extra dimensions. It’s not that hard.”

She resumed tossing the rock, and they sat in silence for several moments longer. Despite its relatively convincing appearance, the rock vibrated with something distinctly synthetic every time it touched her hands. She wondered exactly what kind of magical construction went into these sorts of things that mimicked the Aedric creation. It was impressive, the amount of work he was willing to put into such a grand project with such lofty goals, even if his notion of an ideal society differed notably from her own. She wondered whether his people were happy, or if they missed their Lady of the Twilight. They seemed to believe in his vision and trust him—trust all of the Tribunal, really—to protect them and lead them to a better future. She supposed that as far as the mortals could tell, the Tribunal already had a better record for protecting them than the Good Daedra did.

She caught the rock in one of her human hands.

“Do you know my nymic?” she asked.

Sotha Sil hesitated. “I do not.”

“SIL-AE-LOR,” she said. “‘Light Is To Darkness; Darkness Is To Light.’” She tossed the rock between her human hands. “I’ve always loved my name, especially hearing my Prince say it. She would practically sing it. Sounded so beautiful.” She tossed the rock to the winged twilight and folded her arms across her chest. “She hasn’t so much as uttered it since 700 of the First Era. Three guesses why.”

Sotha Sil did not need to guess.

“I’ve always had the sense that my mother resents me, ever since then,” she continued. “I mean, how could I not feel like that? She won’t even say my real name because I share it with her most hated usurper.” She uncrossed her arms and took the rock back with her human body. “She’s always built you up as this…concept. A perfect exemplar of everything we hate. A ruthless schemer who murdered the friend you loved just for power—power you were never meant to have or understand, that you should have left in the hands of real gods. A deceiver, tricking and corrupting your people into mass apostasy, into turning away from the gods who loved them and to whom they owed their worship. A blasphemer, treating divinity as something that could be understood, just like the Dwemer did. A disgrace.”

She tossed the rock to her side in a high arc, allowing Sotha Sil enough time to catch it, and rotated to face him.

“And then I got here. And I met a person. Not a concept, not a list of hated traits. A whole person.” She caught the rock that Sotha Sil had tentatively tossed back to her, and returned it with another light toss. “And I thought it was just a scheme, that you had everyone deceived and now you were trying to deceive me, too. And then I saw your memories.” They tossed the rock back and forth between them. “I saw the things you care about. I saw how much you love your friends, your family, your people.” She nodded at each memorial in turn.

Lior caught the rock one last time and tossed it at a skeevaton that was zooming along the ground.

“You know how you asked if we could be friends? Does that offer still stand?”

“Absolutely,” Sotha Sil said.

“Because I think I do want that. I don’t think I want to hate you. Azura would confine me to Oblivion for saying it, but I don’t think you’re actually a terrible person.”

“I appreciate that,” he said softly.

“Cool.” She wiped her eyes. “Ugh, stupid mortal-like displays of emotion.” She laughed in spite of herself. “Well, if you don’t mind me sticking around, I think I’ll do some more adventuring for a while. Maybe I’ll earn that ‘hero’ reputation after all.”


End file.
